Blue Ruin Red Menace Yellow Fever Green Revolution
by WritersLove
Summary: Based on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Erik finds out that Charles, long-time boyfriend, erased their failed relationship from his memories. Erik meets an eccentric and unusual man with an obsession with colourful scarves, books and evolution.


Erik is Joel, Charles is Clementine.  
>Emma is Mierzwaik, Angel is Mary, Moira is Patrick and Azazel and Janos are Carrie and Rob.<br>Hank is Stan and Raven is merely an insert

_"Hello, my name is Erik Lehnsherr and I'm here to erase Charles Xavier."_

Based on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Erik finds out that Charles, long-time boyfriend, had their failed relationship erased from his memories. Despaired, Erik agrees to undergo the same procedure and finds out mid-way through that he still loves Charles and attempts to escape from within his mind and protect his memory of Charles.  
>Erik meets an eccentric and unusual man with an obsession with colourful scarves, books and evolution on the way home from New York where they then spend the rest of the week together, unknowingly unfolding mysteries of their forgotten past together.<p>

xx

* * *

><p>It was a glum morning, Erik observed mildly. He was lethargic, sleepless and his face is melting off. The view from the airport lounge was dull and grey, the clouds floating listlessly and sullenly. Tapping an off-beat rhythm on the cold coffee mug handle, Erik dribbles pictures and lines on the napkin in front of him. Random words appear; <em>my friend<em>, _liebling_, _sunshine_, _doctor_, _mausi_. More are words scripted and Erik absentmindedly draws a small mouse with big eyes and a shadowy gaze. Clouds escape from its large ears and a moon emerges from the top. Erik draws the sun behind the moon and it radiates, projecting light and starry mirth.

A cough resonates in front of him and Erik is shocked out of his dreamless state. His eyes feel sunken in and heavy but he looks towards his distraction and is met by an amused smile. The man nods his head lightly and takes a bite from his sandwich, still smirking at Erik. He notes that he's wearing a vividly blue scarf, wrapped snugly around his neck and his eyes are shining brightly against his pale face. His cheeks are pink and his lips are a stained red, full and unabashed. Erik takes a long drink from his soggy coffee and they continue staring at each other. The man waves slightly with his sandwich and crumbs dab onto his scarf. Erik is interrupted by a waitress walking in between him and the distraction and asks if he wants a refill.

"Would you like a refill, sir?"

Erik looks down at his empty mug and his napkin. He's drawn an eye above the sun. "No, thank you."

Standing up, he grabs his coat and pulls out his wallet, hands the waitress six dollars and fifteen cents – five dollar note, one dollar note, a dime, and a nickel. The five dollar note is ripped a bit at the side and the dime is scratched and nicked. The waitress tuts at the lack of tip and leaves with a slight huff, pulling together his empty plate and cup and Erik dully notices how she leaves the napkins he's drawn on. Shrugging his coat on and grabbing his small suitcase and dodgy fifteen dollar mobile with a temporary sim card from the table, Erik leaves the café with a hidden look towards the man with blue.

xx

* * *

><p>Erik walked towards the gate where he sat furthest away from the crowds and pulled out the mobile phone. Magda would probably be interested where he would be. I mean, they were sleeping with each other. She'd probably consider them in a relationship. The corners of his lips turned downwards and Erik scratched at his 4 o'clock shadow mindlessly mulling over calling her. He could do with using up the last bit of money in the mobile phone anyway; it'd be a waste not to. He probably wouldn't mind spending a night at hers, away from his desolate apartment where his two week disappearance would be noticeable. He could grab a good meal from hers, watch a bit of TV without having to look for the main switch to his apartment. He sighed and punched the international call number for England and added her number at the end. Thumb just hovering above the glowing green button, he glanced up and look across the small walkway in front of him. The man from the café waved at him enthusiastically, apparently having been staring at him for an unknown span of time. Erik lip quirked and his mobile phone forgotten, he held out a hand and waved slightly.<p>

"You're very close-mouthed, aren't you?"

Erik looks up from his book, _The Once and Future King_, and started when his face brushes against soft brown hair. Facing up, he sees that the seatbelt light has been turned off and the man next to him had wandered to the formerly empty space. Looking back, he realises that it's the man with blue from the café but this time he's much closer, merely a few inches from his face.

"Sorry?"

The man looked up at him with a wide smile, "You apologise too much, did you know that?"

Erik frowned, closed his book and leaned backwards, away from the strange boy. His face was childish, to say the least. Baby fat still softening his cheeks and his eyes were big, blue, and round. His hair was a tousled brown, parted a little bit off-centre and tangled just behind his ears. "Well, sorry about that."

Charles leaned further in, quick and impulsive, jutting a hand right in between them. "Charles."

Erik looked on, confused for a moment, and hesitantly shook Charles' hand, his grip loose and languid as Charles shook enthusiastically. "Erik."

Charles grin grew wider and he retracted his hand smoothly. "Erik? With a 'k'? Sounds like it. Are you from Germany? I've been to Germany, did you know. Fantastic place, it is. Must've been great, I can hardly remember most of it." He giggled lightly and settled down on the seat next to him, looking up at Erik with bright eyes. Suddenly frowning, Charles looked at Erik questionably, "Is it okay that I sit here? It's just so I don't have to scream from where my original seat is."

About to reply, Erik was cut off when Charles continued. "I don't want to disturb you if you're trying to read or something. It's just, you know. We have a long trip ahead of us till England, 5 hours left if I'm right."

"No." Charles frowned further and looked down, dejected and Erik hurried to elaborate. "No, I mean, it's fine. If you sat here, I mean."

Charles seemed to immediately inflate, once again going into Erik's personal space. "Fantastic, my friend. Where are you heading to? London, obviously, but are you on a business trip? Holiday? You're not from here, obviously as the accent dictates so."

"Marylebone."

"Oh, how absolutely brilliant! Me too! Well, I live there, in a flat. My sister does too, Raven, but she lives in the flat next to mine." Charles leaned closer and grabbed the book from the small table in front of them. "_The Once and Future King_? Oh, darling, we're going to get along brilliantly."

Charles shuffled to readjust the scarf still wrapped around his neck, loosening it and simply leaving it draped over his shoulders. "_'So far as he was concerned, as yet, there might never have been such a thing as a single particle of sorrow on the gay, sweet surface of the dew-glittering world.'_" He quoted, thumbing through the pages of the well-worn book with interest. "You've got a fantastic one, my friend. First edition, my guess. Published 1958, printed the same year." Lifting it towards his nose, Charles sniffed it lightly, and smiled. "What a wonderful smell, old books have. I've always thought this was the main reason I became an antique book shop owner, you know. I've got a store, it's old and creaky. Small as well, but it's good. My sister calls me nutty sometimes because I-"

"Do people often call you nuts?" Erik interrupted, genuinely curious.

Charles smiled mischievously, "I'm nut nuts."

xx

* * *

><p>"Would you like a lift?" Erik asked as he peered down at Charles who was a good head shorter than he was.<p>

Charles struggled through the baggage claim, his luggage containing one full suitcase and a torn and well-used satchel bag. He was crouched down and Erik merely stood by him stiffly when he fiddled with his suitcase, looking for the button to pop the handle up. "That would be brilliant, my friend, if it would be no hindrance." Charles muffled voice came from the blue scarf as he continued to struggle.

Reaching over, hand grazing Charles' hair, Erik pressed against a button lightly and with a click, the handles extracted themselves from their hold. He smiled when he heard a muffled snort and curse from below. Charles stood up and straightened, hand gripping his spine as a few cracks sounded. He let out a low groan and a breathy, "thank you" and gripped the handle tightly.

"Back problems?"

"Apparently. Don't remember how I got it exactly, Raven told me I was off my face and had a bit of an accident. Fell down a flight of stairs, hospital for 2 weeks and rehab for about 4 months." Charles let out a huff of air and clapped Erik on the shoulder. "But not to worry! '_The best thing for being sad is to learn something'_ and I learnt not to go to pubs with more than one level."

"You don't seem to remember a lot of things." Erik observed with furrowed eyebrows, a frown tugging on his lips.

"As I've been told, darling." And Charles seemed to end it there, no further comments and they walked towards the luggage inspection.

"Where do you live, anyway?" Not knowing where Charles lived might be a bit of a problem when he offered to drop him off.

"221B Baker Street. You'll have to go on the A41 and it's near Regents Park, just around the corner in fact." Charles looked up at Erik and bit his lip slightly, a far off look crossing his face. "There's a tube I could take there, if I'm not mistaken. It wouldn't be too much trouble if you're not willing to give me a ride. You're not a stalker are you?"

Erik's lips hitched upwards. "You spoke to me. And I probably wouldn't say if I were."

Charles hummed in response and gave him a slow smile. "You're very interesting, if I may say so, Mr…?"

"Lehnsherr."

"Ah! German. Well, it's wonderful to have met your acquaintance, Mr Lehnsherr." Charles grabbed Erik's hand and shook it forcefully once more. "Xavier, Charles Xavier."

"Hello, Xavier Charles Xavier."

Charles laughed delightedly and their hands stayed lingered together, neither letting go.

"I think this might be the start of something grand."

xx

* * *

><p>Erik gripped the wheel as he drove under the night sky, parking neatly in front of 221B Baker Street. The cheap Toyota that was probably older than he was grumbled underneath him when he tugged the gear stick to rest on park. He turned to his right where Charles sat and they both smiled at each other nervously.<p>

Erik cleared his throat as Charles spoke up and Charles blushed and stammered out, "Uhm, would you like to come in? I've got drinks, I mean. My sister, she's away for the weekend and I wouldn't mind the company. Well, if you want to, at least."

Erik looked shocked for a moment, giving Charles a long look. "Erm…"

"Right, sorry, never mind. It's stupid, I'm stupid. Never mind. Uhm, well, thanks for the lift. That was very nice of you." Charles struggled with the door for a moment, his fingerless gloved hands slipping from the handle. Erik leaned over and used his left hand to pull against the handle and right to push against the door. With his face just a breath away from Charles'; he could smell the scent of hotel shampoo and the slight hint of laundry detergent. Breathing out softly, Erik noticed how he shivered, goose flesh jutting from his pale neck under the blue scarf.

"It's a bit of an old car; you'll have to push it to get it to open."

Noticing their closeness, Charles blushed magnificently and stuttered out another response, "Right, of course. Should've pushed, that might've been clever." Shuffling out, Charles opened the boot and grabbed his suitcase and satchel bag. Stopping by the car door once again, Charles leaned down and peered inside the white, beaten down car. "It is late, my friend. You've just gotten off a six half hour plane trip from New York and drove for about an hour or two, you're bound to be jetlagged and exhausted." He shuffled a bit and bit his lip. "I insist that you at least stay here for the night, take my couch and have a bit of a lie-down. You may leave tomorrow, as early as you'd like."

xx

* * *

><p>"More tea, vicar?"<p>

Charles appeared with the bottle of scotch as Erik finished his drink but he shook his head and swiftly grabbed Charles' forgotten drink, and Charles gave him a look before shuffling back to his small kitchen.

"There's a special rung in hell reserved for people who waste good scotch." He explained smoothly, once having finished the drink and Charles having returned and he guffawed loudly, the ice in his drink – water, Erik noted – tinkering loudly. "I must say, damn good stuff, sir."

Erik stretched out on the sofa, hands resting on the soft throw on the sofa. It was colourful, looked like something he'd owned, once upon a time. Brushing his hands over the intricate patterns, he turned his head and he hardly noticed Charles coming up close to him until he felt soft lips against his. Erik gave a muffled noise of surprise and quickly moved back, the back of his head hitting the couch roughly.

Eyes widened, Charles immediately drew back, head down and abashed. "Oh, I'm… I'm sorry, my friend. I had thought…" Sitting down stiffly on the other side of the sofa, Charles fiddled with the hem of his beige cardigan, short and bitten down nails scratching at the cotton fabric. "Well, I seem to have made things awkward." Charles laughed self-deprecatingly and bit his lip and sucked it into his mouth in a nervous manner.

There was a long silence, only broken by a loud sigh from Charles. He looked down and studied the second last button on his cardigan with intense interest and said in a shamed tone, "I'll, uhm, I'll just… You're able to stay, if you'd like. I'll leave you be. I had just, well, I had thought that maybe… I suppose I came to the wrong conclusion. I am sorry, my friend." Charles brought a hand down to the couch to bring himself up. "I'll just- I'll be going to my room now. It was wonderful to meet you, Erik Lehnsherr."

Ridding himself of his stupor, Erik quickly grabbed Charles' hand and pulled him close just as he was getting up. Stumbling slightly, he crashed into Erik with a yelp and stared at him wide-eyed. Erik simply smiled guiltily and murmured, "Sorry, just wasn't expecting it."

Leaning up, Erik caught Charles' lips once more and Charles gripped his shoulders tightly, pressing himself harder against Erik. His position was awkward, half sprawled across the couch, floor and Erik and half straddling the other man so he righted himself. Throwing one leg over Erik and pinned him down onto the couch with his body, Charles smiled against the kiss and felt a comfortable rush of content wash over him as Erik's stubble rubbed against his chin and his large hands gripped his sides. He always hated the coarse feeling of stubble against him and the tight hands against his waist but for some unknown reason, he really didn't mind Erik.

xx

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><p>They didn't do anything other than share a few other deep kisses. Erik was much too tired to insinuate going any further and Charles merely smiled serenely when Erik apologised. With Charles' number sprawled across his arm, Erik drove home with an occasional look at the messy scrawl. It was dark for twelve in the afternoon, the clouds looming overhead and snow drifting down floatingly. He parks at the building in front of his apartment, rushing in and grabbing his mobile phone that he left during his trip to New York. He punched Charles' number in, getting the 4 mistaken for a 9 and getting the wrong person. After a bumbling apology, he rested on simply texting Charles.<p>

'Hello.'

Nearly immediately, a reply came back. 'You took your time.'

'I've just arrived.'

'Did you miss me?'

Frowning, he debated what he should reply with. 'I do.'

'You do? "'til death do us part", huh? Guess that means we're married.'

Erik chuckled lowly, a bubbling sensation of euphoria and a carefree attitude simmering in his stomach. 'I guess so.'

'Tomorrow, honeymoon. Regents Park. Do you play chess?'

xx

* * *

><p>Charles is dressed differently from the other day's clothes. He's more casual; button up shirt ruffled and sleeves curled up to his elbows and trousers creased and a few stains from bleach mishaps, a plain blue cardigan with a black trench coat. He's wearing a different scarf this time, a dark red colour and wearing the same coloured finger-less gloves that do nothing in stopping the cold. He's also carrying a slim, long cane with him. It was plain brown but had an intricate handle; a handsome 'X' is etched into the silver metal.<p>

Raising an eyebrow and a gesturing with his chin towards the cane, Charles grinned widely. "Threw my back out, trying to grab a penguin from the top shelf but, well, this happened." He waved his cane around in explanation and shuffled closer to Erik.

"A penguin?" Erik murmured as his lips connected with Charles' for a light kiss. Turning around and wrapping his arm around Charles' shoulders, they walk through the path way of the park, occasionally giving way for bikers and joggers.

Charles limped along, his pace slow and Erik trailing with him. "An antique penguin, from my shop. One of my regulars wanted it and I simply couldn't let the poor chap leave without the blasted thing."

"So you decided to throw your back out?" Erik chuckled lightly and squeezed Charles, earning a noise of discomfort.

"Oh, shut it, asshat." Charles pouted and hurriedly limped to the chess set the park provided. Shrugging off Erik's arm from his shoulders, he plopped down onto the uncomfortable metal seat and ignored Erik's poking and teasing.

xx

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><p><em>They all think it's just a game, I'm like a joke to them. They don't take this seriously, I mean, why shouldn't they? It's not as if I'm going to remember anything, they could do whatever they want and I probably won't even be able to remember what I had for breakfast. They don't have to care, God knows Charles never did.<em>

_Oh God, Charles. So fucking casual all the time, so friendly. Fucking never happy when we're together. Never takes things seriously, not even our fucking relationship._

_Jesus, what if I'm just making a mistake. God, what if this was all a mistake. Fuck, I should call it off. Jesus what am I doing. Maybe I just have to deal with it, do what Charles couldn't do._

_Damn it, I don't care. He did this to me first, fucker. I could do what I want; he could do what he wants. He got rid of me; I'll get rid of him. Fuck him._

_Fuck you, Charles._

xx

* * *

><p>Erik is shuffling around his apartment, blank and dreary and sad like him. God, he fucking hates this place.<p>

"I fucking hate this place."

Muttering to himself, he opens up the package in front of him and pulls out its contents. A set of pyjama clothes – which he ignores – and a small plastic bag that contains a single pink pill. _AK 1817? AK 1718?_

Tugging on his short hair, he lets out a frustrated groan. _God, I'm actually taking fucking pills I can't even fucking read._

Peering out of the window, Erik sees a white van parked next to his car, smoke drifting from one of the windows and a woman's arm with a black tattooed sleeve reaches out and ashes the cigarette. He hated those fucking things. He used to love them, not smoking them, just tasting them from Charles' mouth, his skin – knowing that Charles was his and Charles was just Charles.

_Fucking poison, that's what that is._

Pursing his lips with a final frown and eyebrows furrowed deeply, he dry swallows the pill and shuts the curtains. Grabbing his mobile phone from his pocket, he speed-dials Charles' number and nearly screams when he hears the other end.

"We're sorry, the number you have dialled is no longer in service. If you think you have reached this recording in error, please dial…"

_Oh, fuck you Charles. Fucking, fuck you. Screw you for doing this._

Lying down on the centre of the bed, Erik looks at the ceiling blankly, dejected and feeling depressed. His eyelids are closing on him, eyes pressing heavily against his skull and brain leaking from his nose, his mouth, his ears, his eyes.

Hearing a key slot into his door lock, Erik has one final moment of panic and regret before he's put to sleep.

xx

* * *

><p>Erik's in a bookshop, it's old and creaky and smells of mould and rust. Crinkling his nose, he continues on, through the towering bookshelves in search of nothing specific, just <em>something<em>. He's grabbing books at random, fingers trailing down their rugged spines, dipping into the engraved words before shifting his attention to the next book. Repeat.

He's only stopped when he heads a familiar laugh. Is that what he's been looking for? He can't place it, but it's everything and nothing at the same time. Everything's a jumble of emotions and thought and Erik feels as though he's being chained to a cloud floating listlessly and heavily in the sky and dragging through the ground.

Charles. It's Charles.

Erik rounds the corner and stops immediately, frozen in place, one foot tense and hovering just above the ground. All he could see was a flash of a dark green scarf and a few bunches of brown hair but he's certain it's Charles. _Holy shit, it's Charles._

_I should probably talk to him, just… you know, say hi._

Oh, God. How could he do that when he's still in so much love with the fucking bastard that it hurts to get out of bed in the morning without him near, loony and all? Erik shifted closer, holding in a breath he doesn't even know he's holding and holy crap he's right there_ oh fuck he's right here, in front of me, what do I do?_

Shifting his collar and freeing his mouth from under the large jacket he's wearing, he reaches out with a free hand and just as he's about to tap Charles – _oh, fuck it's actually him_ – on the shoulder, someone appears from behind the front desk.

"Moira!"

Charles' smile is bright, blinding even and he's so _fucking happy_. He's laughing and grabbing at the dark haired woman in front of Erik, holding her tightly. '_That was your look for me._' Erik thinks frantically.

The dark haired woman smiles and kisses Charles full on the mouth, and they're both laughing. Holding his hand, she grins. "I was just around the neighbourhood and I thought I'd say hi, so... Hi!"

Charles laughs absolutely delighted and teasingly says, "You were absolutely not in the neighbourhood."

"Damn, it's like you can read minds." Moira says with fake contempt.

Just as Erik's about to turn away and run, _run, run_, Charles turns his head and looks right at him. "Oh! Sorry, my friend. May I help you?"

He barely even flinched, no expression on his face other than friendly politeness. There's not even a lingering strain of disdain or sorrow that's directed at Erik, barely any recognition. Erik stomach twists and pull and his jaw is tight and locked. He should leave.

"Erm…" His voice is cracked and heavy. "Never mind. I, uh, I should l-leave."

Charles merely gives him a confused look, eyebrow arching and lips turning down in a way that Erik knows only too well. "Have a good one then, my friend." He said, patted Erik on the arm and turned around and gleefully running into the arms of the woman.

xx

* * *

><p>"Can I come over to your flat?"<p>

They'd spent the whole day around the park and went to a nearby café for lunch. They'd talked, the entire time. About everything; dreams, hobbies, histories, ambitions, pasts. Erik learned that when Charles was a child he'd wanted to be the Doctor from Doctor Who, next he wanted to be a veterinarian and as he grew up his dreams turned into ambitions then to goals. He wanted to be a biologist, geneticist, then a neuropsychologist, and finally a professor. He was twenty-three years old, was born on April 21 and has an adopted sister named Raven. He grew up with old money, mother died when he was thirteen and father when he was two. His step-father died when he was around seventeen and his step-brother lived in America. He hated the dark, had occasional night terrors and kept a close relationship with his sister.

It was the late evening now; nearing six and it's already pitched black in the wintery sky of England. Erik drove back to Charles' flat and it's been three days since they've met and they've spent each day with each other so far. Erik hasn't had a proper shave since the flight and the urge to have a smoke hadn't appeared either. To think, he used to smoke nearly a pack a day. Charles had been asleep in the seat next to him, curled up into a little ball, seatbelt put on loosely and red scarf wrapped tightly.

Erik looked at him a bit bewildered and chuckled loosely. "Sure, yeah, definitely." Frowning a little and scratching his cheek, he looked abashed for a moment. "It's a bit shit though, sorry. I haven't given it a proper clean in nearly a month."

Charles laughed loudly, reached over and grabbed the back of Erik's hair and pulled him in. Instinctively wrapping his arms around Charles, they met in the middle, lips folded together like two pieces of a puzzle connecting. Unravelling his arms from Charles, he rested his hands on Charles' hips while Charles caressed his jaw and the back of his neck with tranquil joy. Probing Charles' lips with his tongue, he was granted access nearly immediately, sliding in and wrapping around Charles' own. Groaning lightly, Charles gripped him tighter, tugging on his hair and scratching his bitten-down nails against his neck.

They continued at it until Charles suddenly pulled back with a confused expression on his face. Erik called out his name inquiringly and merely got a blinding grin as a response and the word "toothbrush" before he suddenly unlocked the door, stepped out and pranced into the apartment block, leaving his car door open.

Bending down and leaning over the gear stick, Erik watched the door Charles had disappeared into with mild interest; barely lifting an eyebrow when he saw the colourful curtains from Charles' flat window. A sudden face appearing in front of his eye-line then caused a possible lump at the top of his head.

The woman in front of him frowned immediately, blonde hair falling in front of her face and she hastily pulled it back with an irritated huff. "Can I help you?" she asked, forcefully.

Erik felt bewildered, "Sorry?"

"What are you doing here?" Leaning forwards, Erik noticed her blue eyes staring at him with suspicion and the red streaks in her hair constantly falling over her face.

"I, uh… I don't know what you mean." He gave off a small shrug and sent her a questioning look.

She sent him another huff and straightened with a roll of her eyes. "Never mind," she said shortly, leaning down once again to give Erik another look, "Don't fuck up, alright?"

With those final words, she twisted around, shut the door with a slam and made her way back down the sidewalk, disappearing around the corner with a flick of her hair.

xx

* * *

><p>The flashing night lights above him burned against his red-jotted eyes. Erik kept a determined straight look at the rode in front of him, blinking furiously against his burning eyes. Gripping the wheel tightly, he made a slow turn; jaw clenched and face feeling tight and heavy. The twinkling lights don't appear at all and the moon's died.<p>

Shit, he has to calm down. His hearts pounding against his ears and he can't hear anything other than his harsh breathing and his blood rushing. Jabbing at the radio furiously, he strained his finger against the AM/FM button, anything to distract him from his thoughts and the harsh lingering feeling of his heart being ripped out. The car gains life, playing horrible music with too much base and too much movement. The Pixies' "_La La Love You_" poured out from the speakers when he clicked the CD option and Erik nearly totalled his car.

"_All I'm saying, pretty baby. La la love you, you don't mean maybe. All I'm saying pretty baby…_" sang from the half-broken speakers, Erik frantically pulling over at the next available stop.

After giving a quick look around his car – windows rolled up, car locked, no visible pedestrians – Erik screamed. Hitting the hard steering wheel with the heel of his palm and his arms, Erik pressed his brow heavily against the back of his right hand.

Tears overflowed now, his eyes itchy and his hands twitching to scratch at them, to peel them off. God, Jesus fucking Christ. All Erik wants to do is just scream and watch the world fall with him.

For the next half hour or so, he just sat there. Hands shaking on the wheel, eyes swollen and body melting and tightening.

* * *

><p>"Christ, Lehnsherr, why do you do this to yourself?"<p>

It's a rhetorical question; Erik knows and answers it anyway. "I have absolutely no _fucking_ idea."

He's frustrated, pacing and digging his hole into hell. Azazel is simply watching him silently and Janos is looking at him with a sad look in his eyes. Pity.

"I tried to fix it, you know? Like, I got him his favourite fucking book. First edition, _signed by the fucking author_ and he barely even blinks at me." He knows he's ranting but he can't stop the words bubbling from his mouth. "He's with this girl, this beautiful girl, and he doesn't even know who I am.

"Why would he do this to me? I mean, Christ, it's like he's punishing me."

"Punishing you?" Azazel asked quietly.

"I don't fucking know! I mean, _he_ left me. _He's_ the fucking idiot that couldn't stay sober for more than a wake-up hangover." Erik seethed quietly and slumped down on a couch in front of Janos, who was sitting on the coffee table. Erik put his head between his legs to fend off the oncoming vertigo, breathing roughly and sharply though his nose.

Azazel looked at Janos for a moment, stood up from the kitchen chair and began stifling though the first drawer by the fridge. Janos gave him a simmering look and stood up roughly, grabbing Erik's attention. Lifting his head slowly, he was greeted by a brown envelope just below his nose.

"Azazel!" Janos grounded out roughly, swatting him on the arm.

"He needs to know, Janos." He replied, Russian accent sounding his words out.

Grabbing the envelope before Janos could react, he read the words printed out boldly on the object.

**LACUNA INC.**

Opening the envelope with shaky hands, he pulled out a single piece of neat A4 paper, printed out in the middle in clear, concise letters:

Dear Azazel Cheyarafim and Janos Quested,  
><em>Charles Francis Xavier<em> has had _Erik Max Lehnsherr_ erased from his memory.  
>Please never mention their relationship to him.<br>Thank you.

xxx

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Mr Lehnsherr." Erik looks up to see a tanned girl with black hair and black clothes underneath her white coat smiling at him, clipboard at hand. "Oh, you've brought your things. Just follow me, please."<p>

Standing up, Erik tugs two bags filled with Charles' belongings, reminders, and anything that makes his heart and head collapse in on themselves. His head still feels like deadweight on his shoulders and his back aches. He's barely conscious of his movements, body moving on its own, functioning and living under the heavy burden of his consciousness.

He's following her down a white hallway, pushing past three swinging doors and the girl, Angel, hardly makes a noise. No small talk, Erik's relieved. His heart is pounding and his blood is rushing, making his head feel a bit light but he can't regret this.

Angel arrives at a door near the end of the hallway with a plaque written on the door. It's clear, black against white with block letters: "Emma Frost". It's daunting, to say the least. Erik's blood slows down but his mind is still near the clouds. Angel knocks on the door lightly and opens it without waiting for a reply. It's pristine, organised nearly neurotically and the colour scheme is very monochrome, nothing other than white or black is in the office.

It's cramp but the organisation of the office makes it look spacious and Erik thinks quietly that it merely feels cramp because he feels vulnerable and open. Sitting behind the desk in the corner of the room is Emma Frost, the epitome of a cold professional. She's dressed in a sharp white business outfit, her clothes blending together. Hands lying on the desk with fingers intertwined in front of her – white manicured nails, Erik notes – and she's looking at him with a blank expression on her face. Her lipglossed lips quirk downwards in an annoyed frown when he sits on the chair in front of the desk.

"I can only apologise, Mr Lehnsherr, you were not supposed to see this." Frost waves the yellow slip in her carefully manicured hand. She's American, her accent and voice strong and confident.

Erik leans forward, hands clasped together in an act of small comfort and says forcefully, "It's a hoax, right? I mean, you can't really do this. It's impossible." Dragging a hand down his face, he cups his mouth and chin. "It's Charles, he wouldn't do that."

His voice is muffled and rough. Erik coughs and wipes his hand on his pants leg. "It is possible, Mr Lehnsherr," Frost says in a clipped tone. "Mr Xavier, he wasn't happy. Our files are confidential, but I can say this: Mr Xavier wanted to move on. We provide that possibility.

"Telling him would be devastating. It would be like waking a sleepwalker, he might react violently."

Erik laughed harshly, "What am I supposed to do?"

"My only piece of advice now, Mr Lehnsherr, is to move on."

"How can I, Doctor Frost? How can I do that when I'm the only one who has to carry this memory of what we had together? We've been together for 4 years, Doctor. I don't know how someone can simply move on from that."

They sit there in silence. Angel is staring at him with pity and suddenly says, "You can have the procedure done."

Frost snaps her head towards her and Erik sinks further into the chair. "Angel, please leave."

Erik barely looks at her when she leaves; the click of the door behind him is the only indication he has. "Mr Lehnsherr, this procedure, it's costly. It wouldn't be wise to do it as an impromptu act. There must be preparation, procedures to be done, and papers to sign."

"I want it done." Erik says, cutting her off. He's looking at her dead-set in the eye and her sharp blue colour almost reminds him of Charles'. "I want it done as soon as possible."

Frost sighs and leans back into her chair, looking at him with as if she's assessing him – _she probably is_, Erik thinks. It's silent for a long moment and Erik can't help but think that Frost's look reminds him of Charles. "What we need you to do, Mr Lehnsherr is to go back to your home and find all of Mr Xavier's belongings and everything you have that has any association with him. Anything and everything.

"We'll use these items to create a pathway, a network, of Mr Xavier in your brain and our technicians will erase those memories and connections." She reaches over her desk and clicks on the speaker phone. "Angel, please bring Hank in."

There's another moment of silence and there's a soft knock against the door. The person waits this time, entering the room when Frost says calmly, "Come in, Hank."

A tall and lanky boy appears next to Erik, shuffling his shoes against the smooth floor. He's got big round glasses on and gave Erik a weak impression. Frost indicates to Hank, "This is Hank, he's my most skilled and experienced technician. He's going to go to your house, Mr Lehnsherr, and will do the erasing tonight. When you wake up, it will be morning and you will be none the wiser. A new will be waiting for you.

xx

* * *

><p>"My name is Erik Lehnsherr and I'm here to erase Charles Xavier."<p>

"Tell me about Charles Xavier."

"I, uh," – cough – "I was with still my ex-wife, Magda. We were nearing the end of our relationship. Alex, kid I used to babysit, introduced us. Charles was his tutor when he was in uni and Alex had this band that had a gig somewhere. He asked for some heavy-lifting help and so, I uh, got introduced to him."

"How long into your relationship until you had sexual relations with Mr Xavier?"

"We, uhm. Well, we s-slept with each other that night."

"Why do you wish to get this procedure done, Mr Lehnsherr?"

xx

* * *

><p>"What we're going to do, Mr Lehnsherr, is start with the earliest memories and work down to the older ones. Hank here is going to explain the procedure and help map your brain."<p>

"Nice to meet you, Mr Lehnsherr. I'm, uh, I'm going to show you some of these objects which you have brought with you today and all I would, uhm, request for you to do is to simply _react_ to each object. Focus on the memories and I would be able to get an emotional readout of each one. We'll be disposing of each object when we've finished, that way you won't be confused by their presence.

"Just look at each item and focus, please."

* * *

><p>Erik is looking at himself. He's sitting on a dentist's chair with wires wrapped around his head and Hank is displaying each memento he brought with him. A chess set, pictures, books, CDs, sketches, journals; each lay out in front of him to create a mapping sequence. He watches himself visibly twitch and pull back an arm when he's about to reach for a photo of Charles.<p>

He's fairly certain that he's asleep, they must be aiming for the most recent memory of Charles, which is ironically them erasing his memory. He's already in his head. He's watching as Hank informs him and instructs him on what they're doing and what they're about to do. He's mouthing each word subconsciously, looking around. He's back in the Lacuna clinic, and everything goes backwards, like a reversing VHS tape. Angel is there to greet him, smiling plainly. Suddenly, he's back on the chair. Hank is showing Frost his journal of sketches and drawings and notes and Erik feels naked, like he's under a microscope for all to bear. They're blurring, Hank turns blue and Frost turns yellow, switching colours and Erik knows that the memory is being erased.

Hank is speaking, blurry and scrambled but Erik can make out what he's saying. "I met someone tonight. I don't know what to do. I don't know his name. His name is Charles and he's amazing."

xx

* * *

><p><em>This is the last time I saw you.<em>

Charles stumbles in; he's wearing his favourite blue scarf and a thin cardigan. The weather's getting colder. Erik hears a car outside screeching away and loud music getting dimmer and dimmer. Charles sits clumsily on the sofa in front of where Erik is sitting, drinking a class of scotch and reading _Nineteen Eighty-Four._

"It's 3AM, Charles."

Charles blinks drearily and Erik notices that they're bloodshot, unfocused and glassy. "Hmm… Is it really?" Coughing, he clumsily reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out a packet of cigarettes, putting one in between his lips and offering one to Erik, "Fag, love?"

Getting no reply, Charles shrugs and flicks his Zippo open and lights the cigarette in his mouth. "This is the third time in a row this happened, Charles. What the fuck is going on?"

Charles only shrugs again, taking a deep inhale of smoke and blowing clumsy smoke rings in front of him. He giggles and nearly falls off the couch in an attempt to rearrange his scarf.

Erik stands, huffing angrily and grabs the cigarette forcefully from Charles' hand and puts it out in the glass of water near him. Pulling Charles up, he unwinds the scarf from his neck and unbuttons his cardigan roughly.

"Sorry, love. Not really up for it tonight." Charles mumbles, leaning up and resting his head on Erik's shoulder. Pushing him off his shoulder, Erik's hands land on his face pulling his eyelids apart and inspecting his blown up pupils.

"Christ, what did you take tonight?"

"Logan had some coke. Didn't want him to solo through." Charles giggled helplessly, forcing his lips against Erik's and pulling back just as sloppily. "Weed, the usual and think I had some, uh, acid as well, took a bit of E so the coming down wouldn't be, y'know, bad."

Grunting, Erik grabbed Charles' arms and pulled him to the kitchen where he shoved Charles roughly against the chair, ignoring his stumbles and giggles. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard, he pressed the kettle on and noisily spooned coffee into the mug.

"You shouldn't have taken that many."

"Just because you don't know how to fucking relax, Erik, doesn't mean that I can't have a good time."

Throwing the spoon into the sink, Erik snarled and snapped, "At least I'm not some fucking pathetic junkie wino that can't stay sober for an hour."

"Don't call me pathetic!" Charles yelled, shoving the seat underneath him to the ground and slamming his hands on the counter. "You can't fucking judge me, you've taken all the shit I have."

"I don't fucking take it constantly, you stupid fuck! Christ, at least I'm sober for most of the week. You have a fucking job, Charles. You're not some little cunt twink anymore, you teach at a fucking uni." The kettle popped off and Erik sloshed the water into the mug, mixing it roughly. Shoving it into Charles' hands, he went into the living room and downed the last bit of scotch in his glass. "It's fucking irresponsible, you're fucking irresponsible."

"I'm just having fun, Erik! You're like an old lady or something," Charles yelled from the kitchen, Erik could hear the cup clattering and crashing into the ground. "You're just angry 'cause you had to get pissed alone while I was out, having fun, without you."

Charles appeared by the door of the kitchen, coffee stains on white button-up shirt. "You're thinking if I fucked some bloke tonight, aren't you? Maybe you think it's a bird. You're always so fucking_ paranoid _that I'd be fucking around behind your back. You think its Logan, don't you? What if I did suck his cock while you're at home twiddling your thumbs like a little girl? You wouldn't do shit, you know."

Erik feels resigned, his heart's nowhere and his hands are clammy and everything hurts _so fucking much_. "I don't think you've been fucking around, Charles. You don't do that. You fuck with people's heads, that's what you do. You fuck around with their thoughts and manipulate them. Isn't that how you get people to like you?"

Charles is frozen when Erik turned around to look at him, looking more sober than he had been in a while. There's a deep flush on his face and collar bone and his eyes are focused on the space behind Erik's head.

Charles nods and let out a helpless puff of air. Twitching, he straightened his shirt and pulls his hair back in an act of compulsion and walks swiftly past Erik, grabbing his scarf and mistakenly grabs Erik's jumper from the coat rack.

"Ah, Christ. Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Erik quickly goes into the kitchen and grabs his keys, following after Charles' retreating back. "Charles, come on. I didn't mean it, all right?"

Erik follows him down the stairs, and out of the apartment block. The flats behind him are breaking off into pieces, like small explosions happening in each molecule and atom in the air.

"Charles!" Erik yelled after him, he's suddenly outside, in his car and he's following the stony figure of Charles. "For fuck's sake, Charles! At least look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"Get out of my fucking face, Erik!" Charles screamed, he's clutching onto Erik's jumper and his scarf is wrapped around his hand.

"You did this to me, Charles! I'm erasing you, and I'm going to be fucking happy about it!" Erik parked the car, ignoring the keys and simply rushing out, following Charles' angry pace. "You'll be gone and I won't even know you exist and I'm going to be happier than I ever was!"

Charles turned around, furious anger written across his face. His eyes are wet and his cheeks are flushed red. "The perfect ending to this piece of shit story!" he yelled, at Erik's face and he can't even feel his warm breath against his mouth.

Everything's warped. Charles' face isn't his and his eyes are his mouth and his nose is his ear and Erik is everywhere. There's a ticking noise somewhere and Erik feels his heart beat to the rhythm. He doesn't know where he is, who he is, all he knows is Charles.

Charles is normal now. His red lips mouthing words, sounds dull and distant. Charles is talking. Who's talking? There's more noise, more sounds and more words.

"Erik, where are my shoes?"

Shoes?

He's on the couch, reading. What is he reading? Charles appears in front of him, looking agitated and Erik has the mindless urge to kiss him. He doesn't.

"Christ, Erik! You're useless. Should have left you at the fucking market."

He's standing up, he's by the door. Where is he?

Charles is gone and Erik is empty.

xx

* * *

><p>"I want to run an orphanage." Charles says suddenly, eyes wide and so painfully blue.<p>

Erik is startled, "Sorry?"

"I want to run own an orphanage. Or at least be a foster parent." Charles is giddy, smiling and looking happily at him. "We should adopt, Erik."

What? "Let's, uhm, talk about this later, yeah?"

Charles stops them; they're blocking people's path and the woman behind them huffs. Charles lets go of Erik's elbow and frowns at him. "Why not now?"

"I just, ah. I don't think we're ready, Charles." Erik isn't looking at Charles; he's looking at his eyebrows instead. They're neat and fine for a man.

"You're lying." Charles says certainly.

Erik sighs and runs his hand through his hair. "Do you really think you can manage that, Charles?"

Charles' eyebrows furrowed and Erik regretted his words immediately. This would only start a fight, and in the middle of a busy marketplace as well.

"What do you mean?" Charles hissed, hurt.

"It's just…" Erik shrugs, lost for words, "Can you really raise a child, Charles? Never mind running an orphanage."

Charles looks suddenly enraged and Erik feels exhausted like he's never felt before. Erik looks down and mumbles, "Let's not talk about this here."

"Can't you look at my eyes when you're talking to me?" Charles snapped, tapping his fist roughly against his temples, "I can never fucking tell what you're saying! I'm not a fucking telepath!"

"I. Don't. Want. To. Talk. About. THIS!" Erik punctuated, his skin feeling colder and his blood crawling like insects. Swearing under his breath, he turned and walked quickly, pushing pass the masses of people.

"You can't just say something like that and expect us to stop talking about it, Erik!" Charles shouted from his right, following him.

Turning around with a snarl, Erik's sudden rage diminishes as quickly as it had arrived. Where Charles stood was nothing but a blur of a shape and everything around him fades into white.

xx

* * *

><p>They're lying in bed together; Charles' head is pressed against his cheek and his hand lazily tangling itself in Erik's hair. The sun's just barely breached the horizon and the air is coloured a light blue haze with an orange tinge. It's Erik's favourite time of day.<p>

"You're very close-mouthed, aren't you?" Charles stated rhetorically, brushing his lips against the light stubble on Erik's jaw. "I can read people like an open book, but you I can't get a grasp. You don't tell me anything.

"_Du fehlst mir, liebling._" Charles spoke with broken German.

Erik continued to keep his eyes closed, neck tingling when Charles' hair brushed against it. "I talk to you, don't I?"

"Constant chatter doesn't indicate trust." Erik murmured as he opened his eyes a sliver. "Nor does it mean communication."

Charles sighed meagrely and pressed his lips against Erik's cheekbone, warm cup of tea pressed against his chest and the soft scent of it flooding Erik's nose and he can smell the small tint of gin. "I just want to know you, Erik. We've been together God knows how long and I barely know anything about your childhood. I don't even know why you're in England."

Erik groaned aloud and pulled the thick duvet over his chest and neck, blocking Charles off. "Leave it, Charles."

Charles swore, turning himself away and Erik could feel the cold air seeping into the blank spot where Charles was. "Jesus, Erik. Intimacy, communication, sharing. That's what a relationship has." Erik feels Charles lifting himself from the small bed they have together and the clatter of drawers opening. "What we do is fuck and pretend. Christ, do you even love me?"

There's a rough clatter of a mug landing heavily against the dresser and the light weight of Charles sitting against the edge of the bed. "I barely even know what you do at work. You tell me you're an engineer but what type? Where do you work? Who do you work with? You spend like, 9 hours working a day, Erik. Who are you anyway?"

Erik sits up on the bed and leans against the wall behind him. He's angry, he's always angry and he's shouting words he can't remember. They've had this argument so many times it's hard to even pinpoint where it begins and where it's going to end.

"I should find you some fucking slug to date, you'd love that. Both of you exactly the same!" Charles is fading his hands curling away like dust and Erik looks straight into his eyes.

"I'm erasing you, Charles." Erik states simply. "I'm going to be happy; I'm going to erase all that fucking sadness and disappointment. I'm wiping you away."

Charles isn't there anymore, all Erik sees are a pair of vibrant blue eyes and the words appear before him, spelled out and Charles echoes them.

"I'm glad."

Erik's arms feel cold and his chest is empty. Charles is gone again and Erik doesn't even know who he is.

"Me, too."

xx

* * *

><p>It's November something. Erik doesn't remember and he doesn't really care. He's scratching in his small sketchbook that Charles bought him. He can still feel the engraved letters in the back with Charles' scribbling and chicken scratch. He knows it's a memory and he knows it's going to be erased soon. His brain stutters to remember what happens but his body knows what to do.<p>

They're at a pub. It's Charles' favourite, they go by here every Friday evening to have fish and chips and Charles goes off to get them both pints of Heineken. There's a rolled cigarette in his left hand and a fork in his right. He's eating chips. Charles returns ad slides in the seat in front of him, passing a beer into his hand and drinking his silently. It's unusually quiet in the pub but they're both used to silently eating together.

God, they must look so sad. They're probably pitied on by other couples and even lonely drunkards. The barmaid is looking at them with a hint of sadness and moves onto cleaning the mugs. Erik ignores his drink and looks at Charles who's made a face with his chips and ketchup, mindlessly drinking and smoking.

There's a small strand of hair that threatens to fall into Charles' eyes and Erik reaches a hand out to brush it away. Charles smiles at him softly, smoke exhaling between his lips.

"How're the chips?" Charles questions, shoving a few in his mouth.

"Good."

There's silence again and Charles has nearly finished his pint. He's going to get drunk and stupid.

"Could you dry up the floor when you've finished your shower? I've slipped too many times." Erik says quietly, taking a drag from the warm cigarette. It burns his throat brilliantly and his lungs feel tight.

"Oh, yeah. Sure, yeah. Sorry."

Charles shifts around, finishing his beer and lighting up another fag. They're getting through too many packets a day.

Erik waits for the memory to disappear when there's suddenly a noise in the background, like a scratchy radio in his beaten up car.

It's a phone ringing and it's high pitched and whiny.

"Hey, prof, what's up?"

It's broken and wavy with white noise melding in. Charles' voice appears but he's not speaking. He's blank faced and smoking silently.

"I, uh, I think there's something wrong with me, Moira."

He's in the antique store again; he dodges someone who looks exactly like him. He's still got the lighted cigarette in his hand and the fork in the other.

"What's wrong?" The voice is slow, Erik can't tell the gender but he knows who it is. He's looking at her right now, swaying with Charles happily. She hasn't got any specific features, her face is unidentifiable but Erik recognises her.

"Do you love me?" Charles sounds broken, lost and small. His voice is clearer than the woman's, more recognisable and more welcome.

This is so fucking messed up, Erik realises, turning his head and looking around as his surrounding change swiftly.

"Am I a bad person, Moira?" Charles is weeping, soft sobbing noises cutting through Erik's harsh breathing. "I'm horrible, aren't I?"

"No!" The woman's voice is still scratchy, slower and deeper like a slowed down recorder. "You're fantastic!

"Should I come over, Charlie? I've got a job right now but I can meet you." She's speaking softly but it sounds like chalkboard scratches in Erik's ears.

"No, no, no. God, no. I'm being selfish, I'm sorry." Charles' breathing is as erratic as Erik's and he can practically feel Charles' heart beating.

He's back in the pub, no one is around him and he fades away like a cloud of smoke.

xx

* * *

><p>"Do you like it?" Charles yelled excitedly, bounding in from the kitchen. He's got a haircut and a tattoo, which is unusual for a soon-to-be professor – the tattoo, not the haircut.<p>

Erik's lying in bed, reading from a battered physics book from one of Charles' things with a bowl of cold cereal on his chest. Pulling the book away, Erik momentarily laughs in surprise and grins up at Charles.

He's without a shirt and the tattoo is of the sun and moon curled around each other like yin and yang. It's placed just below his collar bone in front of his heart and he can see the red marks around it from its recent puncture. It's only the first part of the tattoo, the shading and colouring would take need to take two more appointments but Erik is still fascinated by it.

"Come here!" Erik cried out, laughing and smiling brightly. He drops the book off the bed and puts the bowl of cereal on the bedside table.

Charles jumps on the bed, his jeans scratching lightly against Erik's bare legs but Erik doesn't seem to mind at all. Erik brings his hands up and lightly scans over the skin around the tattoo with a gentle finger and uses his other hand to bring Charles' face to his. They're laughing together when their lips connect, their teeth hitting clumsily and their noses bumping.

Charles pulls back and leans against his heels, resting his hands against Erik's sternum. "Do you like it?" He asked again, eyes bright and blue.

"I like it." He does, he really does. It's Erik's design, given to Charles as a sketch to which he conveyed his love for it by stating to have it tattooed. Erik merely laughed, brushing the comment aside and kissed Charles on the temple.

"It reminds me of us, you know." Charles said softly, fingers rubbing soothing circles on his chest. "The sun is you and I'm the moon."

Erik pulls himself up and uses his elbows as leverage. "Is that so?"

Charles shifts back to sit on Erik's thighs instead and Erik wraps his arms around his waist. "You moon me, Charles." He grinned playfully.

Charles laughed and slapped his back lightly, "That's a horrible pun, Lehnsherr."

They're kissing again and Erik realises that he's happy. He's so happy it hurts when he realises that the memory is gone.

xx

* * *

><p>Erik is curled around Charles and they're both naked and pressed against each other so tightly they're practically one being. Charles finished a fit, a screaming and kicking fit that left him sobbing and hiccupping in Erik's arms.<p>

Erik is convinced that Charles is a manic depressive and Charles refuses to believe there's anything wrong with him.

"Am I a bad person, Erik?" Charles' breath is hot and moist against his neck and Erik skin lights up to it. It's a question that squeezes out of Charles' tongue religiously and Erik's heart still breaks each time.

"No," he says again and Charles lets out a disbelieving choke of a laugh.

They normally lay there for hours, just breathing each other's company in and silent throughout. Charles keeps talking though.

"Mum hated me. I could always tell. After Da had died, Mum took to the bottle and I was just such a horrible person. I hated her; I ignored her and Christ, I didn't even go to her funeral. She tried to love me, I know that but I thought it was her fault that Da died." Charles shifted closer, grabbing Erik's shirt in tight fists. "Kurt came and it's just…Sometimes I think people don't understand how lonely it is to be a kid.

"I was twelve and I stole Mum's liquor from her. It was horrible, Erik. She was crying, screaming and she told me that I was a mistake, saying that Da never loved me and it was my fault he left her. She said that it was my fault that Kurt and Cain hated her." Charles laughed, and Erik felt the hollowness of it. "I burnt down her room, while she was in it. Kurt got her and I still can't feel sorry for it."

Erik brought his hand up and rested it against the back of Charles' head, toying with his long hair. "She told me on her death bed that she hated me. I spent every day since then hating myself. Raven tried to help, my darling Raven. She helped me with finishing secondary school, helped me to get into Oxford and I never once told her I love her." Charles pulled his head away from Erik's shoulder and looked into his eyes, "Do you think she knows that? Does she know that I love her?

"Do you know I love you?"

Erik nodded vehemently, lips pressed together tightly and eyes burning. Charles let out a harsh sob and his eyes watered, "I love you, Erik. Oh, god I love you."

Erik let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat and forcefully rolled them over. Looking down at Charles' vulnerable and open face, Erik pressed their lips together and pried Charles' lips apart, urging for him to kiss back with as much feeling.

Erik pulled back and pressed his lips against Charles' again, kissing him with each interval. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Erik, don't ever leave me." Charles whispered, eyes closed and a needy keen escaping from his throat. Erik nodded roughly, squeezing his eyes shut and Charles grasped him like he was his survival. "_Ohne dich kann ich nicht leben_."

Erik couldn't live without Charles, either.

_Please let me keep this memory._ _Please, please, please oh god please don't take this away from me, don't take him away from me._

Charles isn't in his arms anymore and he's being pulled away. Erik shouts out his name, crawling and fighting under the large blanket over them and Charles is gone and Erik's still screaming for him.

"Please! Please!" He's standing on the bed naked and he's yelling. "Please! I don't, I don't want this anymore! Let me keep him! Wake me up! _Wake me up!_"

* * *

><p>References to:<br>- Wanted (2008); James McAvoy  
>- Inglorious Basterds (2009); Michael Fassbender<br>- The Once and Future King by T.H. White  
>- Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle<p> 


End file.
